Happy New Year everyone! I hope 2021 treats us all a bit better than 2020 did. I hope you guys all had a good NYE, mine was very virtual what with the new fast spreading variant of COVID running wild where I am, but still good fun.
Please note: I know literally nothing about explosives, as this chapter might prove, but Hunger Games has loads of weird and wacky technology, so please just accept what's said in this chapter as true in this universe.
He shakes her awake as the dawn is breaking. The sunrise is stunning, vivid reds, yellows, pinks, even purples light up the sky, framing the branches of the trees, it's far from the muted colours you could see through the factories and smog in 8. She imagines the Capitol at least appreciates such a pretty backdrop to their ugly deeds.
"We should get going, we want as much time as possible."
As much time as possible to do what? She wants to ask, but she's tired and can't be bothered to deal with his circular answers, so instead she packs the campsite up in silence.
They don't have much food left, so they finish off Peter's jerky as they walk. He's in a good mood, so this doesn't seem to bother him, "We'll have all the food we need at the Cornucopia tonight anyway."
"You still haven't told me why we need to be there, nor how we defeat the well trained tributes guarding it."
He waves her worries away, "We'll think of something," and she remembers that as much of a mastermind as he seems to think he is, he is still an arrogant teenage boy, certain that things will happen the way he plans them. It seems a lot to gamble her life on, but she follows him anyway.
She's not sure she knows the way, except general northwards, but he seems to know where they're going so she obediently follows him. As they progress, she starts recognising features from her last few days in the arena, a tree here, a bush there, the hill Heather died on…
And far too quickly they're there.
He pulls her to the side, directs her effortlessly to a large build-up of undergrowth where they have a good view of the Cornucopia through the branches being easily seen.
"You've been here before," she states.
"How else was I to check they'd taken my bait?"
She doesn't reply. She should have known anyway.
Through the leaves she can see it is only Kurt and Ram at camp. Despite the two killing machines in front of them, she's sort of relieved, she's not sure yet how she feels about facing both Heathers after her betrayal. Kurt and Ram though… she thinks about their eagerness to get their hands on her, whether she was willing or not, and shudders. Kurt and Ram she feels less loyalty to.
She supposes that Heather and Heather could be nearby too, but she knows how the Careers operate now, and she's sure that the boys have somehow been talked into taking guard duty again. They're currently kicking a loaf of bread around in a makeshift ball game, clearly bored.
"Ok, what are our next steps?"
"Patience, darling. We need to spend some time scouting them. Work out our best approach."
The way he is looking at her is ridiculously patronising, she wants him to stop.
"So the basic idea is to find a way to kill two fully armed Careers with nothing more than one crappy dagger?"
"Yes."
"I am stunned the Gamemakers didn't recognise your tactical genius."
He tuts and continues watching. She reluctantly sits down to join him, not sure what she's supposed to be looking for. They're horny dumbasses, whose only advantage is their strength, but she knows that already. Spending a further ten minutes watching two idiots kicking bread doesn't offer her much more insight and is doing nothing for her rumbling stomach.
"If we don't hurry up the Heathers will return and then we'll have to deal with all four of them."
"That's why we came early, they'll be gone for hours."
"You worked out their weakness yet then? Apart from the obvious lack of brain cells?"
"Pride." He says immediately, never taking his eyes off them, "They've been told all their lives that they are born champions, that their fighting talents will win them the Games. They can't even imagine someone from one of the poorer districts being a threat or a challenge. All we need to do is work out how to play that to our advantage."
It's your weakness too, she thinks, you are so sure that you're cleverer than us all – than the Gamemakers – that you can control whatever we do, that we couldn't possibly understand or outplay you.
She tucks this revelation away for the future, and looks up at him, "What is my weakness then?"
A flicker of a sinister smile plays on his features, "That would be telling."
Any further questioning (and plans to punch him in his smug face) is stopped by Kurt flopping down on the ground, "Urgh this is so boring, I can't believe we're having to stay here. Heather Duke never used to be so fucking bossy."
Ram sits beside him, nodding enthusiastically in agreement, "It's such a turn off, at least Heather McNamara shuts up when she's not being a prude."
"Don't pretend your main girlfriend isn't your right hand," mutters JD.
Veronica does her best to muffle the snort she lets out.
"This is such a waste of talent," says Ram, "I got a 10. We are way better than the girls. They got no one yesterday. Who killed that boy from 6 when we went out?"
"That was us," confirms Kurt, "that was so funny. He cried like a baby when he was punched."
"And that sound that he made when he was kicked," sniggers Ram, jerking back in imitation "uh, uh, argh!"
"They killed him slowly and painfully," says Veronica.
JD, as expected, is unmoved, "They're bullies, he was weak, what did you think would happen?"
Veronica thinks of Al's family, of his girlfriend, if they thought Al being reaped was the worst thing that ever happened to them, surely him dying like this would top it?
She thinks of Betty, if there's any afterlife, she must be crying now, watching the boy she liked suffer so. Poor Betty would not be able to understand how anyone could be so cruel, nor how Veronica can let this happen, can even participate.
But they've been in the Games so long now and the heroes are long dead, all that is left are the drones and the cowards and the psychopaths, and Veronica's a bit of each.
At least Peter only had about a minute of terror before I killed him.
Kurt guffaws, "I can't believe he admitted he was gay to make it stop. I bet his parents were like 'oh no! Not my dead gay son who loves the taste of cock'."
Anger bubbles within her, thick and fast. It's not fair, she thinks, that these boys in front of her are enjoying this, enjoying the Games they volunteered for. Meanwhile, Al, who was forcefully pulled from the people who loved him, lies dead and bruised beside so many others who never asked for it. Kurt and Ram are unrepentant murderers, the kind that enjoy torturing their innocent victims first, they are entitled, they are rapists. Even before the Games they had nothing to offer the world. The idea that one of them might be the sole person to survive this is horrendous. They don't deserve to live, they deserve to pay for what they've done, more than the Heathers, more than Al and much more than Peter.
They need to know that their victims can fight back.
"They need to die," she states, "Any ideas?"
His eyes light up in eagerness at her words, "They're not paying much attention to the weapons pile. We might be able to sneak our way into camp and get something better to fight with, that would be a good start."
She considers, the boys really are doing a terrible job of guarding anything, so it's probably doable, even if it still leaves them with the challenge of what to do once they have the weapons. However, it's a risk, a big one. with fatal consequences if something goes wrong.
"And, if they notice before we manage to leave, you think we'll be able to overpower them Mr 5-in-training?"
For a second his face betrays annoyance, "I'm perfectly competent with a knife, as you well know."
She bristles, comparing this to him trapping her straight after Heather died isn't fair at all.
"Yeah, if your victim is weaponless and distracted…" but she trails off, because that's not actually a bad point…
Instantly she sits up, "Give me the dagger. I'll distract them, you get yourself a weapon from their pile, and then come up behind them. I'll count to three, come in on two," she says, "take Ram, I'll take Kurt."
She will show them what she's capable of.
She relishes the stunned look on his face, "What?"
"I spent three days with them," she hisses, already getting up, the desire for vengeance running through her veins seems to have numbed all her caution and fear, "trust me."
She tucks the dagger into her back pocket, splashes some water from their bottle on her face to wipe off the worst of the soot, dirt and sweat, takes her hair out of its casual ponytail and ruffles it up in an attempt to make it look attractively bedraggled. She pulls down her top so some of her cleavage is showing and puckers her lips so they look a little more prominent and slightly red.
It's very improvised and nothing on what even Martha looked like the week before for their interviews, especially with the burns and bruises on her arms, but it's not like the Heathers can look any better at this stage, and from the sound of it the boys are bored of them anyway.
She turns to him, "Do I look suitably sexy?"
There's more than a bit of bewildered amusement on his features, but nevertheless, he looks her up and down and licks his lips.
"You'd better have my back or I promise I will haunt your every waking moment." She says, as the rush from his appreciative stare gives her the confidence to go into the glade swinging her hips.
xxx
JD is probably right about Kurt and Ram's poor guarding skills as, when she greets them with a confident, "Hello boys," they both start scrabbling for their weapons.
"So I was thinking about that threesome," she continues, as if she hasn't just appeared back at camp after being missing in action for three days, "I just couldn't get it out of my head. Fancy doing it now?"
She has to resist the urge to laugh at the way they both freeze, Ram's mouth falls open, while Kurt drops the knife he's only just managed to pick up.
"Well, are you up for it?" she says, walking forward, strategically placing herself at an angle where they can't see the weapons pile if they are ogling her.
They both nod enthusiastically.
She lets them take a few steps towards her, so they are further from Kurt's knife. Before putting her hand up.
"No, wait, I want to see all your sexy muscles, and where you are standing now I have the perfect view of both of you sexy boys. Strip for me."
They seem only too pleased by this request, and the knowledge that she is destroying years of carefully thought out training and tactics with only her words and body sends an odd kind of thrill down her spine. They do it slowly, showing off, encouraged by the odd comment she throws their way. Good, the slower they go, the more time JD has to find himself a good weapon. He's looking through them now, though he too seems to be paying more attention to her than he should be, given one wrong move will lead to their instant death.
Fucking men.
When they are stark naked and JD is knifed up, she smiles at them seductively, "Now come over here and let me tell you what I want you to do to me."
They run over, clothes and weapons forgotten, like lambs to the slaughter. She feels their breath on her face, their hands on her chest and resists the urge to shudder.
Instead, she strokes the muscles on their arms, "So, what I really want is for you guys to rip my clothes off. Is that ok?"
They nod and start to grab with eager hands, but she bats them off, "Not yet, on the count of three…"
She reaches behind her back, clasping her dagger.
"One…"
She sneaks a glance behind them, JD is in place.
"Two…"
"Three." Says JD, knife already raised.
It all happens in a flash. JD is quick, but he hasn't spent the last decade priming his reflexes. Ram turns and punches him, knocking him off his feet. But, before she has time to react, Kurt grabs her by the upper arms, pulling her roughly towards him.
So she knees him in the crotch.
He's well trained, so his gasp of pain is muted, but his hand loosens enough for her to get her right arm out of his grip and plunge the dagger into his neck.
She pulls it out, twisting it for good measure, as he falls to the ground. Blood is trickling from the dagger onto her hand but that no longer matters. Nothing matters except that JD is still scrabbling to get up and Ram is running towards the weapons pile.
If he manages to get to the spears she knows for a fact that both of them are goners.
"Get him!" She shrieks in JD's direction, but he's still unsteady on his feet, so she runs, faster than she ever has before, and leaps at Ram, shoving her blade into his back, pulling it down his skin.
It doesn't kill him, not even nearly, his muscles are thick and she leaves nothing more than a deep scratch, but it's enough to make him turn. He pushes her over, landing on top of her, the dagger spiralling out of her grip. He holds her down with one hand on her chest, so hard that she can barely breathe, and grabs a large rock with the other.
He raises his arm, rock in hand, the rippling arm muscles that she was stroking moments ago are even more obvious. Thick, strong, merciless, one blow and there is no doubt at all that she will be dead.
She closes her eyes for the impact, her mind is screaming that, even after all this, she doesn't want to die. If she sees her life flash before her it is dull and grey. She will die humiliated in front of the entire world, without having fulfilled anything, without ever having been truly happy or done anything that matters.
There is a thump of an arm but not on her head. She feels his body slump on top of her, the stench of dirt and sweat filling her nostrils.
It takes all of her courage to force open her eyes.
Blood is pouring from a slit straight across Ram's neck, the warm liquid flowing over her face and shoulders.
Above them stands JD, his knife stained red, his face is already starting to swell but it does nothing to hide the elated look in his eyes.
It takes both of them to roll Ram off her. He pulls her to her feet. She grips his wrists, panting, dripping with blood, muscles still tense until she hears the cannons, one straight after another.
They have won.
They come together like magnets. His mouth is on her neck before the hovercrafts have any time to arrive. And then he's pushing her back against the nearest tree, helping her pull off her shirt as he goes.
He is there, he is real and, at the moment, he is the only thing stabilising her to the world after what she has just done.
"What's this about a threesome?" he mutters between heated kisses.
She snorts because of course that's what he picks up on, he somehow thinks that Kurt and Ram are still his romantic rivals.
There's danger in his eyes, and she sort of loves it, the way it sprouts anger on his normally emotionless face.
"What's it to you?" she teases, "Aren't I allowed any freedom here?"
He pushes her back, hard enough for her head to bash against the tree trunk, his eyes turning to squints, "Tell me, Veronica."
"The threesome did not occur," she says finally, "Or anything with them or anyone else," she clarifies hastily, the weapons pile is still nearby and she thinks getting stabbed by her ally straight after a double homicide might be an imprudent way to die.
He grunts his approval, grabs her hair and tugs her even closer to him as she wraps her legs around his lithe form. Claiming her as only his; body, mind and soul.
Once, while sitting alone in her pitiful school library, she read that when the leader of a pride of lions is killed, the lionesses go into heat, desperate to fuck the lion who killed him.
She'd like to think she's above such urges, but there are 17 children dead and right now she's finding it hard to think of these tragedies as anything but a step towards her survival. There is blood on her hands, her face, her clothes and she feels more beast than human anyway.
His hands on her body, desperately shoving away any barrier between them, provide a welcome distraction.
She kisses him back fiercely, making sure to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood.
"That's a 9 and a 10 down," he hisses into her ear as he joins them, "they could have won and now, because of us, they won't."
At his words she grips him tighter and bucks against him, pushing any guilt to one side.
With the adrenalin still running through her veins, it is a heady feeling to know that they have done this deed, to feel powerful instead of powerless. He looks at her with awe, rather than superiority, and she revels in it.
Somewhere in the Capitol her supporters (and she's sure she has them now) will be cheering for her, while those who bet on Kurt and Ram will be cursing and ripping up their slips. Bookies will be hastily slashing their odds on them while Districts 1 and 4 will be wondering if the last two Careers can survive their onslaught.
The attention of a nation is on them, on her. They are the words on everyone's lips, the black horses no one expected to have a chance, now being considered as potential winners.
For a moment she feels like she can do anything.
xxx
Afterwards, they lie together, backs resting against the trunk of the tree. The thrill of their victory is still heavy in the air.
"So," she says, "how do you think they censored all that?"
He chuckles, "I wish we could see it. I'm sure you gave them quite a challenge."
Her mouth twitches into a smile, she likes the idea of the Gamemakers frantically panicking to cover up her overly explicit actions while still appeasing the Capitol's bloodlust, wondering what sort of punishment they will face if they make a mistake.
"I can't believe that all fucking worked," she says, unable to keep some smugness out of her voice, "I was sure we would be dead by now."
"You were right about them though. They were very horny and very dumb, not to shit on your acting talent, but that was the most obvious trap I've ever seen and they walked right into it without a second thought. Their deaths were pretty much idiot tax."
She thinks about the look on their faces as she appeared out of the blue offering unconditional sex and can't help laughing, "It was pretty obvious wasn't it?"
At least when she's repeatedly walked into danger to get a slight tactical advantage, she's done it with her eyes wide open.
"It's like I said, play it right and they kill themselves."
When she looks up at him she can see a black eye forming. It makes him look very sexy, a thought that should probably disturb her more than it does. She reaches out and touches it, relishing how he hisses and grips her arms tighter in pain. "I seem to remember more blood, knives and punches than you do."
"There were complications perhaps, but all in all," he says, "that was a very good plan."
She tries not to show how pleased she is by the comment, "We both very nearly died."
"Where's the fun if there isn't any risk?"
She rolls her eyes.
They watch lazily as the hovercraft picks up both bodies, she tries not to think how she roasted marshmallows with Kurt and Ram, how they were laughing at each other's stories just days before. Now they are no longer an active threat, it's harder to see them just as bullies or obstacles they had to destroy.
The high from what they have just done is rapidly fading, and suddenly she is just a killer, covered in the blood of her victims.
She gets to her feet, "I'm going down to the lake to wash."
He nods, getting up too, "When you're back I've got something to show you."
She can't put her clothes back on, not with all the blood still wet and warm. But luckily there are two relatively clean, if smelly, piles of clothes carelessly dumped at the campsite. Kurt's clothes are far too big for her, but there are hardly any red stains on them, which is good enough. So she slips them on and uses some rope as a belt. She then chooses a nice knife from the weapons pile, finds some burn lotion in a first aid kit and bundles her blood-stained clothes up. She follows the route she took to the lake in another lifetime, back when she was still with the Careers, back when they were all still alive.
When she gets there she strips, observing the cuts, bruises and burns all over her body, making her skin look like a patchwork quilt. The water at the lake is clear but deep, and she has no idea how to swim, so she sits on the side placing her legs in the cold water, watching as the brown and the red swirl off them into the lake, hissing as she feels the water seep into her cuts. She then cups her hands and rubs the water over the rest of her body. She's so dirty that the water is completely discoloured by the time it drips off her. She grabs some moss from the side of the bank, stands up, and starts scrubbing.
She spends a long time there, grabbing more and more moss, rubbing it all over herself until she is shivering and her skin is raw and stinging. When she is finally satisfied that there is no trace of blood left on her body, she screws her eyes closed in an attempt to pull herself together. When she opens them again she half expects the blood to have returned, permanently staining her with her sins, but she is clean – her hands look the same as before she used them to stab a boy through the neck. Somehow this is worse.
She applies the burn lotion, pleased when it appears to do nothing but make her skin sting more, then rinses out her clothes, which are even dirtier than she was, she'll dry them by the campfire later. As she puts Kurt's clothes back on, something falls out of the pocket, something small and metallic, when she leans over to pick it up her stomach sinks as soon as she sees the flash of pink. Her heart already knows what it is, even before her brain has realised. It's Kurt's keychain, the one his kid sister gave him. Ashley, her name is Ashely, she's probably crying, inconsolable right now. She'll go through life with the burden of knowing her brother died embarrassing himself on TV, she'll never forget this day nor who did it to him.
Should it have been harder for her, she wonders, to plunge a knife into Kurt's neck? At the time it had felt like self-defence, but that isn't a particularly good motive when she put herself in the path of danger precisely so she could kill him. Sure, Kurt and Ram thought it was funny to beat Al to death. But she quite enjoyed tricking them into their own deaths too. Is there really any difference?
Manipulation, she thinks with a shiver, that's the difference, it's what JD practices, apparently it's what I practice too now.
She's not sure why it bothers her so much, everyone is killing to survive, but there's something unsettling about his way of murder. She knew where she stood with the Heathers, alive while useful, otherwise they'd be a knife in her back the instant they're close enough. But with JD it's all pretty words and broken promises, he takes pride in the art of murder just as much as the deed. The sadistic pleasure he gets from finding the right opportunity to kill goes further than the Careers' sense of victory, it's something he seeks, something he wants to perfect, to perform at the right moment for the optimal poetic impact. And somehow she knows this is more terrifying than facing five Careers at once.
Is that who she is turning into?
She resists the urge to scream and instead settles for roughly running her nails down her still stinging arms and throwing Kurt's token deep in the water.
She hopes the camera doesn't notice.
xxx
She can tell JD's excited the moment she arrives back at the Cornucopia. His face shows the same energy that's usually reserved for seeing the life drain out of someone's eyes.
"Come here." He calls, "look at what I've found."
He's standing near the platforms where they entered the arena, so many days ago, and has dug a shallow hole.
As she approaches he holds out his hand, in his palm is a circular metal object, about double the size and thickness of a coin.
She picks it up dubiously, it's dull and still covered in dirt, "What is it?"
"It's a mine." He says, "the very ones that could have blown us up the day we arrived."
"Oh. I wasn't expecting them to be so small," she says, ignoring the knot twisting in her stomach at the reminder of Betty.
"Small, but deadly. Get hit by one of these and boom, you're gone."
She swallows, "I know. I've seen. But how does that help us?"
"Ah, so the thing about these particular little bombs, is that they're very pressure sensitive. After a quick, easy tweak of the wiring and they will blow when you throw them."
"And you know this because?"
"My father showed me. Man loves explosives more than anything else. He steals them from the coal mines when the Peacekeepers aren't looking, plays about with them, even sells them when he is done with them and needs more alcohol." He grins suddenly for a reason she can't quite figure out, then continues examining the object with the kind of awe he usually reserves for sharp pointy things, "they're neat little bombs, good for down in the mines, because the other trait they have is they trigger other explosives nearby to blow too, even much, much bigger ones. Gamemakers must be careful with the spacing of them here, because you don't even need to be that close, but underground it's very useful, leave a bunch of explosives at the end of a cave and then throw one of these in to set them all off. BOOM!"
If he's telling the truth, they're easily going to have the most powerful weapon in the Games, "And you'll be able to dig them all up?"
"Not all will work," he says, "some obviously are already blown and not all of the mines have the defect that lets them be altered so they'll explode when thrown, but it's common enough that they'll be some we can use."
Between the two of them, they make quick work of digging the mines up and in a little over two hours they are done.
By now she is well and truly famished, so she puts on a fire and raids the food pile, while JD fiddles with the explosives. Most of the meat is well past when it should have been eaten, but the bacon seems well enough cured to use, and there are plenty of potatoes, mushrooms and vegetables. She boils them together in an attempt at soup. It's not the best thing she's ever cooked and the bread she dunks in is stale, but to her empty stomach, it tastes amazing.
He's still sitting on his own by the mines so she takes his serving over.
"How many did you manage to fix?" she asks.
"Three." He says, "seems like they give 12 more of the ones with defects, not sure why I'm surprised. Still, three is enough for what we need."
She watches the way his fingers caress the metal, more softly than he's ever touched her, she knows he's desperate to start throwing them already.
"Good. So what are our next steps?"
"We wait. You've already set a fire so hopefully, that'll get the girls' attention. If not, well they'll return to camp sometime soon, especially after they realise Kurt and Ram are dead."
She nods and distracts herself from any thoughts of her days with the Heathers by sorting out the food pile. The Careers have managed to ruin any kind of order she set up during her time there, but under the mess is still more than enough unspoilt food to last them until the end of the Games.
Not that both, or likely either, of them will make it.
There's a sound from the trees nearby, a twig snapping, the crackle of leaves, and her hands instinctively go for her knife. But the noise stops suddenly, too suddenly for it to be natural.
Whoever is there is hiding rather than going straight for the attack. She squats down, pretending she's dismissed the noise but lets her hair fall in front of her face so she can scan the undergrowth unnoticed.
It takes a moment or two but then she sees it, a hand pushing the leaves away in a bush
"JD," she says quietly, holding up a bag of corn nuts as if she's showing it to him, but motions with her head and eyes. He picks up her silent message immediately, gaze rapidly focusing on what she's seen.
His reaction is instantaneous. He gets a mine out of his pocket and throws it towards the tribute.
There's an impressive boom and for a second the late afternoon light gives way to a blinding flash. Then there's a second boom. This time one of a cannon.
It's all over before she can decide whether this was what she wanted to happen.
If nothing else it's proved that it's an easy, efficient way to kill.
JD looks almost disappointed at how quick it all was.
The hovercraft has to pick up several pieces of the body. It's only when it picks up his torso and head that she gets a good view of who they've killed. It's the male tribute from District 9.
"Oh," she says, "he was Al's friend, the one who liked talking about ludicrous battle techniques."
"Keith Harrington," he says, with no particular interest, "He got a 6 in training, so he wasn't useless, but it's a bummer it wasn't one of the Heathers."
She doesn't bother commenting on his blasé reaction to the innocent child he just murdered, but she hopes he can see it on her face.
At least it was fast. Maybe I could bear it if I went that quickly. She didn't know Keith, she'd never spared him more than a passing thought. This makes more of a difference to her twisting conscious than it should.
"The Heathers must have heard though, they'll know where we are."
"Oh, I'm counting on it."
As if on cue, there's a rustle in the bushes, and a female cry, barely distinguishable from a wounded animal.
Quick as a flash JD's hand is in his pocket again and he throws the explosive in her direction, but the girl is anticipating it, runs suddenly sideways outside of the mine's path and disappears into the greenery. Veronica only catches the flick of a dark brown ponytail before she is gone.
Not a Heather then.
"Damn it." Says JD, but he doesn't bother pursuing her, perhaps he's realised how rashly he's used the penultimate mine on failing to kill someone who isn't even a Heather.
"That must have been his district partner, the girl from 9." Says Veronica, realising she's the only other female tribute left, "I guess they were working together, spying on the Careers. Maybe they were stealing food when they weren't looking," It was a smart plan. By being under the Careers' noses they could probably overhear their search plans and make sure they wouldn't end up in their path. They've probably been watching all day. She thinks about what she can recall about the girl. She remembers the girl shooting a jealous look at her dress at the interview after the Heathers were pointing and laughing at the girl's subpar dress… Courtney. That was her name. Is her name. She's still alive and has seen all their sins.
Despite all the cameras it's hard not to think of her as the sole witness to their crimes.
xxx
The Heathers still haven't returned as evening falls, so she bakes potatoes on the fire, like she did for the Careers the first night she was here, and sits beside JD, who is playing with the remaining explosive.
"Please don't drop that," she says, "I've put far too much effort into the Games to die so ungraciously."
He smirks, "Don't worry, so have I." but puts it back in his pocket.
"Also, considering we've only got one mine left let's be careful with it."
"We'll be fine. We just need to get the Heathers together and then BOOM! Gone."
"There's still Brad."
"You grew up with Brad, I'm sure you'll be able to suss out how best to kill him."
The faith he has in her is almost flattering, but it brings up something that's been bugging her ever since he showed her the mines, "I'm surprised you want to kill the last two Careers like that anyway. I mean I get that your ego swells at the cunning of using something not designed as a weapon but big explosions, no words or mind games, don't seem much your thing."
He grins, the same self-satisfied one he had on earlier when he was telling her about how District 12 used the mines, "You'd think that wouldn't you? But it all depends on who your targets are, darling, and who's watching. Sometimes explosions are necessary to make what you want happen." He doesn't specify any further because he is talking loud enough for the mics to hear his every word, but she understands. Somewhere, the father that Jason Dean loathes is being tortured, maybe even killed, for what his son deliberately revealed on live TV.
She looks at him for a long time. Feels that, despite how much he's told her, she still knows no more about him than the day she approached him in the Training Centre.
The boy who talks of revolution – of overthrowing the powerful, but whose eyes gleam no matter who he kills.
xxx
There are three faces in the sky tonight. Ram, then Kurt, then Keith. The most since the bloodbath. All their kills.
"Six left," she comments, resisting the urge to shove her hand into the fire again, "they'll be well into interviewing family and friends now."
He snorts, "For those who have any left."
She ignores him and stares into the distance. She hasn't really thought about her family in a while now – her mom, her dad, her friends must be watching her every move from a world not covered by a forcefield.
What are they thinking? Do they find her unrecognisable? Or have they always seen it in her underneath, a girl happy to do all of this for the mere reward of living? Was this always the expectation when she was reaped or did they think she'd be gone by now? Would they have preferred it that way?
Would she have preferred it that way too?
xxx
As the evening turns to night it becomes increasingly clear that the Heathers aren't coming back tonight. And sure enough, when she checks the supply pile, the tent is nowhere to be seen.
"Maybe they're searching the desert, they haven't been there yet, would be easy for tributes to hide there, and I'm sure it's over a day's walk away."
"More likely they're searching the mountains for you. They know you went south with Heather, they must have worked out it was most likely you headed for a cave. "
Her heart sinks at the thought, "Yeah, yeah, you're probably right."
"In any case, now they know Kurt and Ram are dead they may have a better idea of where you are, we'll get them tomorrow."
They decide to sleep in shifts just in case they're back earlier than they think.
They have plenty of sleeping bags so they are not cold, but still her sleep is restless, as her dreams are filled with horrors: a boy's body struck by lightning, a blonde girl choking on poison, boys stumbling naked through a forest and so many people being blown to pieces.
Betty stands beside her, tears streaming down her face as she attempts not to look at the sights before her, she glares at Veronica accusingly.
"Ronnie! How could you?" She cries, but her voice is weak and soon her image fades away. In her place stands JD, he grins at her, giant knife in hand, blood pouring from his mouth.
"Who's next?" He mutters in her ear as he grabs her arm, pulling her towards the chaos...
The Capitol Presents: the Surviving Tributes, Day 7
District 1
Heather McNamara
Ram Sweeny
District 2
Heather Chandler
David Remington
District 3
Betty Finn
Peter Dawson
District 4
Heather Duke
Kurt Kelly
District 5
Shannon Lucas
Rodney Bulb
District 6
Cathy Stone
Al Springer
District 7
Tracy Hophead
Bobby Young
District 8
Veronica Sawyer
Brad Richards
District 9
Courtney Chadwick
Keith Harrington
District 10
Shelly Little
Dennis Grundy
District 11
Phyllis McCarthy
Dwight Archer
District 12
Martha Dunstock
Jason Dean
Deaths today: 3
Survivors: 6
What better way to start 2021 than with 6500 words and lots of murder?